


Rites of Passage

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [359]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:49:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: anon on tumblr asked: Please can you do a fic with Alan and Gordon? Like Alan getting hurt in Europa and not telling gordon but the bro know? Something like that But Allie-boo getting hurt and worried gordo please?





	

The bruise was already bigger than his palm, deep blue and throbbing.

Alan peeled off his flight suit carefully, tasting the hiss of pain build up behind gritted teeth.  It wasn’t anything serious – his first responder training had already led to a critical assessment – but it ached with every tiny movement.

To be fair, Four had taken a beating, and the tiny Thunderbird wasn’t really designed for more than two in the cockpit.  They’d been thrown around, bodies crashing into bodies and the hard corners of consoles and bulkheads.  Alan knew he should count his blessings that a bruise was the worst they were walking away with.

Just as he began the careful slither into his t-shirt, there was a cursory knock and then the barely used manual door to his suit area cracked open.  “Knock knock, special delivery.”  Gordon’s hand appeared through the crack, waving an icepack, already wrapped in a soft cloth.  A second later, Gordon himself peeked around the edge.  “You decent?”  Glancing over Alan, from his bare toes to his hair, Gordon nodded as if completing some internal checklist.  “Put this on your hip.”  He tossed over the ice pack, and Alan had no choice but to catch it.

There seemed no point in denying it.  “How did you know?”

Gordon pushed the door open wider with his foot so he could fit himself against the edge of the door frame, the raised edge running along his spine, the edge of the door itself resting against his other shoulder.  He’d already changed, and as Alan tugged out the band of his pants to wedge the pack in between fabric and skin, Gordon shrugged.  “I notice things, especially in my Bird.”  He grinned as he produced a bottle of beer and took a long swig.  “And you were favouring that side all the way back.”

Alan tugged his shirt over the lump of the pack, but already he could feel the cold pulling the sting out of the bruise.  “Thanks.”  Gordon nodded.  Another bottle appeared, and Gordon held it out, waggling it enticingly as Alan hesitated. “I’m underaged.”

“And you also set about a dozen space and rescue records.  You’ve earned it.  Just,” he added as Alan tentatively popped the cap.  “Don’t tell Scott.”

Alan laughed, holding out the bottle to chink it lightly against Gordon’s.  “You got it, partner.”

It was cold, and a little bitter.  Alan’s hip still throbbed, and he was exhausted, but right now, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.


End file.
